


Beyond Skin

by sullacat



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Boyfriends, Community: kink_bingo, Fluff, M/M, Painplay, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:38:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sullacat/pseuds/sullacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of ways to show you love someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Skin

**Author's Note:**

> No infringement intended. Thanks to Altilis, Kinderjedi, and Inell for their help and handholding. 
> 
> Written for Kink Bingo: Painplay (other) and Tattoos.

Clint didn't talk much about his previous life, though Steve's clearance level gave him access to enough of Clint's records, the wheres and whens of Clint's life. An orphan who ran away to the circus. A few tours in the army that led to his advanced sniper training, that led him to S.H.I.E.L.D. That told a story of a man, and it must have been a hell of a story, but that wasn't really who Clint Barton was.

His body, though, now that was a road map that said more than the indifferent words in that folder. Clint was naked and lying on his stomach, giving Steve's artist's eye the chance to catalogue every detail. Several interesting looking scars, a healed bullet wound in the back, a smattering of freckles across his shoulders, a pair of tattoos. "Did it hurt?" Steve asked, tracing the crossed arrows and dagger on the back of his shoulder under the special ops motto _De oppresso liber_. 

Clint turned his head sleepily, wrapping his arms around his pillow. "What?" he asked, looking over at Steve, a little grin on his face.

"This," he asked, his mouth dropping to kiss the inked skin.

"A little," Clint admitted, this light in his amazing eyes, making them look more greenish right now. "This one down here hurt more, closer to the bone." Clint sat up, the sheets pooling at his waist, as they both looked down at the small hawk on his right hip. "Why... you thinking of getting one?"

"Maybe... I don't know. A lot of guys I knew back then had them, I always admired them. Thought we'd go and get something together after the war was over, you know?" Steve found himself thinking about his army friends, the times they had together, and got lost for a moment, the past was threatening to take over. Then Clint nudged him, and he was back. "What do you think?"

Clint rolled onto his side and pushed Steve over onto his stomach. "I think there is a big expanse here of perfect skin that is just begging for some markings." Clint's fingernail traced along the edge of Steve's shoulder blade, and when Steve shivered, his back arching slightly at the touch, he followed it with his lips.

But nothing more was said for a week or so, until Steve sent Clint a text, asking him to meet him at a tattoo parlor he'd found in the neighborhood. "Hey," Clint said, walking in and finding Steve sitting on one of the chairs in the front area, his sketchpad next to him. "What gives? "

"Hey. Surprise," Steve grinned, patting the seat next to him.

"You could have mentioned this at lunch," Clint nudged Steve's leg with his own. "What are you getting?" he asked. Steve understood the curiosity. They'd known each other almost a year now, and they'd been falling into this 'whatever it was' for more than half of that, living out of each other's bedrooms. Clint would know by now that Steve didn't do anything rash unless lives were in danger, so he didn't seem too shocked that they were here. If anything, Clint seemed more than a little interested. "You have a design in mind?"

Steve nodded. "I wanted to see what they had here, but I brought some sketches too, things I've been doodling." 

At that point, one of the tattoo artists stepped toward them, introduced himself as Mark. "You ready now?" he asked, glancing at Clint before looking at Steve.

"Yep," Steve said, standing, and they walked into one of the rooms in the back, small but well-lit, with all sorts of tattoo art on the walls, pictures of the Mark's previous work. Steve settled into the chair, and talked quietly with the artist. "I want this, on my back shoulder. Can you do it?"

"Yeah," he said, taking the drawing. "Just like this? No color?" When Steve nodded, Mark bit his lip. "Okay, Lemme make a stencil, and I'll be right back."

After he left, Clint sat down. "Not gonna let me in on the secret, are you?"

"I sorta want to surprise you. I'd have done it alone to really shock you, but..." Steve's hand reached out to Clint's.

"You baby," Clint murmured affectionately, leaning in closer and kissing his temple. "Just remember, whatever you put on there is going to be on you forever, permanent." Clint ruffled Steve's hair. "I hope it's special, meaningful to you."

Steve got quiet a moment. "It's what I want on me." When Mark came back, Steve arranged himself on the inclined bench, taking his shirt off before laying down on his stomach. "Here we go," he said, a hint of a nervous smile on his face.

He could see Clint watching Mark as the stencil went on, but as he was sitting down near Steve's head, Clint still couldn't see it. "You want it all black, right? No colors?" Mark repeated.

"Yeah," Steve nodded, looking over at Clint, then waited as Mark got everything ready, sterilized. The first part, the cleaning and stencil bit didn't hurt, just a little cool sensation as the alcohol cleaned the skin. Then after placing a new sterile needle into the machine, Mark started drawing.

It hurt. "Fuck," Steve muttered, a little surprised as the needle hit his skin.

"You okay?" Clint asked, his brow furrowing.

"Yeah, just... it scratches a bit."

"I know," Clint answered, stroking Steve's hand. "But think of how hot it's gonna look afterward."

Steve laughed, then caught his breath again as the needle hit a nerve. "Christ, sorry," he said.

"Don't have to apologize to me, boy scout." They both laughed, though Clint winced as Steve's hand squeezed his fingers tight. "Thought you were impervious to all this shit."

"I'm big and strong," Steve looked over at him, grinning. "Still hurts..."

They were quiet as Mark worked, just looking at each other, the occasional inhale from Steve as the needle touched something sensitive. Then Mark paused, sitting up and stretching. "Okay, that's the outline. I'm gonna color in some of the details now." The machine turned on again, and from his research Steve knew that this was going to feel a little deeper, the way the machine would dragging along back and forth, over and over the same tender area.

The pain was just a little sharper now, and Clint's eyes locked with Steve's, widening as Steve held on tight. Clint's hand was probably in danger of being crushed once or twice. "How we doing?" Steve asked the tattoo artist after what felt like hours.

"Pretty good," was the answer he heard. "Almost done with this side."

Steve thought he was closer to the end, and he gave a sad little laugh. "Half done, fuck..."

Clint touched his temple, then took his hand again. But he didn't say anything, just sat there as they watched each other, his eyes blinking when the pain was most keenly felt. Clint brushed away a bead of sweat from Steve's hairline, and he felt his face flush from more than the needle etching his skin.

"Want to talk to me?" Clint asked.

Steve shook his head, a weak smile on his face. "It's okay," he said. "Just every once in awhile- oh shit, yeah, that hurt." They both laughed a little, and Steve sighed. "Just wanted you here when I got it. Wanted you to be the first to see it."

"Me too." Steve knew the longer he sat in the chair, the more often the pain showed on his face. He didn't want to worry Clint because it wasn't terrible, it was just _irritating_ , but in that same tender area, being scratched over and over again. After what felt like another hour, Mark sat up. Using a small cloth he cleaned the area, looking down at his work. "Not too bad," he said, the corner of his lips turning up. "I really like this design. You do it?"

Steve nodded, sitting up as well. "Yeah," he stretched. "Like to draw in my spare time."

The tattoo artist snorted. "I know how much spare time you guys get, what with saving the world and all." When they both looked at him, he shrugged. "What? I watch the news." Winking at Clint, Mark proceeded to give Steve the aftercare instructions, along with some ointment to rub on the inflamed skin later. "There's a mirror over there," he pointed at the wall, full length. "I'll give you two a moment," Mark added, glance over at them both before he peeled off his gloves and walked out of the room.

Steve held the hand mirror, looking as best as he could at his right shoulder. It was red and irritated but he could see it, his little doodle now a reality on his skin. Something permanent and real, and though Clint didn't know it yet, a promise of things to come. "Can I see it now?" Clint asked, unable to hold himself back as he handed Steve his shirt.

"Yeah," Steve answered, his face bright pink, even more than it had been during the tattoo. Clint arched a brow, then stepped over to the other side of the chair. 

It was a star, a large five pointed star like the one on his shield, intertwined with what looked like the hawk tattoo on Clint's own hip. "Steve..."

"You like it?"

Clint stared at it for a long time, lifting his hand to touch it, but then he pulled back. "You drew that?" When Steve nodded, Clint grinned, that honest one, without any trace of smirk, and he reached up and kissed Steve. "I think it's perfect. Better than the one I've got." 

"I thought... well, I-" 

But Clint seemed to know what he was trying to say. They kissed again and Clint helped Steve into his shirt. Then Clint squeezed his shoulder. "I've got an idea... Hey, Mark!" he called out, waiting for the tattoo artist to reenter the room. "You got another client scheduled for the next hour?"

Crossing his arms, Mark laughed, looking curious. "No one right now."

"You do now." Clint began unbuckling his pants, sliding them down his hips. "I want you to make this look like that." Pulling down his boxers, he exposed the hawk on his hip. 

"The plot thickens," Mark murmured with a grin, as he measured Clint's tattoo. "Yeah, shouldn't be too hard. Let me scale this down, and make a stencil of the star to lay on top," he said as he headed out of the room with Steve's original sketch.

Steve's face broke out into a wide smile after Mark left. "You sure?"

"Hell yeah. This -" Clint touched Steve's shoulder, careful not to rub against the tattoo, "-this is us, and I love us." Steve hadn't expected this, but when he considered it, it made sense. Having Clint's mark on him, and his own mark on Clint - it was a promise they were making to each other, one that they both wanted, maybe even needed, and were proud to show to the world. 

Later that night, laying in Clint's bed, they helped each other with their tattoo aftercare. Clint took the cling wrap off of Steve's shoulder blade, and rubbed a little Neosporin on it, and he did the same for Clint. Laying on his side, his fingers lightly traced the drawing on Clint's hip. 

"You like?" Clint asked, leaning back on his elbows, staring down at Steve. 

"I like." Leaning down, he brushed his lips against the drawing, kissing it lightly. "This star is like me, on your body, making you mine. You belong to me." Rubbing the Neosporin on it, he added, "Not that anyone else should ever see this down here."

Clint laughed, reaching out and touching Steve's hair. "I guess that hawk on your back means you're mine." Clint sat up, his face close to Steve's. "And back there, everyone is gonna see that. You know that, right?" He kissed the side of Steve's jaw, soft. "They're gonna know you belong to me."

"Just as long as you know, I don't care 'bout anyone else." It was hard getting comfortable that night, Clint on his back and Steve on his stomach, but as they wrapped themselves around each other, Steve knew he was where he belonged.


End file.
